Death's Mistress
by ThaliaRose
Summary: Dorea Potter always knew bringing back her pet garden snake when she was eight was not normal behavior. When she reached Hogwarts, she decided to see it as an opportunity- to become the "Repairman" as said by Muggles. She helped solved murders and got large sums of money for it, easy right? And why is Professor Riddle so interested in her abilities? Grey!Harry, fem!Harry
1. Prologue

She never shared well with other, but who could blame Dorea Potter after years of having every inch of herself owned by her extended family.

When she received her letter to Hogwarts she knew her place in the world was finally secure. It finally explained why she brought back her favorite garden snake when stupid Dudley killed it in the roses when she was eight.

Anything was possible in the wizarding world—right?

Somehow, life brought her to Hermione. Hermione, who always had an answer. Hermione, who in her opinion was more than met the eye of the average bumbling eleven year old wizard. When Luna and she saved Hermione from the troll they made a blood pack that linked them to each other forever. Blood to blood – life to life. _So mote it be_.

Second year flew by with a fury when Dorea discovered the most beautiful creature in the world, Nera the Basilisk. No one knew that instead of killing the accident creature she instead shrunk it to the size of a garden snake to live within the chamber. Her heart screamed at the thought of killing an innocent creature.

She was more used to bringing them back to life actually.

Third year was upon her and Dorea intended to stay at the top—whatever the means.

 **Author's Note:** I have another crazy/out there story about a dark Harry Potter. This is only the beginning.


	2. Chapter One - Rouge Problems

They called her the Repairman. Apparently, the Repairwoman never had the same ring to it—or that's what the Muggle's liked to call her and most of the others had their own names for her.

The repetition of the days never bothered Dorea Potter, but it was the constant political games between the different species as they fought to see who was first in line to clear up their bloody messes. Oh yes, she was that type of cleaner. _Joy_ , she thought. _The best in England for the past six months, thank you very much_ , but don't tell her competitors that.

Dorea stood in the beginning of a thick green thicket in the woods twenty miles from her house with a dark scowl spreading across her features. Deaths close to her home put her on edge and no one wanted to anger her.

She glanced over at the man while observing the scene, "It just had to be near my house, didn't it Jack? You know how to leave the best gifts."

Hermione would smack the back of her head if she found out about the jobs so close to the Dursley's when finally she was cultivating the image of the perfect school girl.

 _Dorea Lily Potter, the moment someone finds out about you—about us—will be the second the Light thinks their savior is Dark! You know what they say about Necomancers you idiot,_ she mimicked in her head thinking about her best friends famous scowl.

The sun was starting to lower and light around the area became dimmed. There was about twenty minutes before her favorite show came on and she would be damned if she missed the beginning, because Jack Ryder had rouge problem.

"Darlin' it was a rookie's mistake," he rumbled kicking the leg of the dead man.

Three large gashes littered his chest with dried blood stuck to his tattered shirt. "Just do your shit and we can get out of here."

She moved closer to the body and observed the state of his body. He had scraggly blonde hair down to his shoulders that looked matted from not being washed. _Was is it with were's and their insane hair?_ It had to be a few weeks since this guy had gone into the Muggle world or someone would have caught up to him before.

"You prepared to catch any flailing?"

He puffed his chest with a smirk, but moved forward to pin the man's arms behind him and sat him forward for her to get started.

"Sorry, buddy." Dorea brushed her finger across the cleanest patch of skin she could find – the side of his neck.

Within seconds the body jerked forward, knocking her off her feet into the surrounding dirt. The man's amber eyes split open the dried blood on his face and a growl released from his chest. Before she could put him back down to regather herself, Jack was already holding his elongated claw against the man's throat with his yellowed teeth peeking out from his lips.

 _Men_ , thought Dorea controlling her breathing to not yell at Jack for the fourth time in the last hour.

"Who sent you to attack our borders?"

Without a response, Jack shifted his grip on the man and twisted his right elbow to break his arm in one swoop. A howl burst out of the man and he struggled against the weight of his imprisonment.

Jack smiled. "I'll ask you again filth, who sent you? Maybe I'll ask the lovely lady you pushed into the dirt to fetch my plyers from the truck."

Dorea narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. She was not one of his lackeys and her job had been completed the second the man opened his eyes. _I finished my job dog_ , she thought with contempt.

He nodded his head at her to go along with his story, "Yeah, so answer his question mutt." It was five to seven and her she just knew that tonight's episode would finally reveal who killed Mike.

The broken werewolf took a breath, "The Nord's. Rosier's—that's all" he coughed up more blood, "that's all I know."

It just had to be one of the Sacred Twenty eight's dealings, didn't it? Not much surprised her anymore since she began using her gift. Magic grounded her, but her ability to raise and put down the dead allowed for a flourishing business opportunity.

Before the werewolf could say another word Jack used his claw to rip off his head getting blood on Dorea's shirt.

"Are you kidding me?" she bellowed throwing a nearby rock at Jack's face. "That is going on your bill mutt."

He shook his head before throwing the man's head on the ground. "I think we can afford it after that information. As always darlin', thank you for the help.

"It's Ms. Reynold's to you dog. My bill will be owled promptly and if a cent is missing you know—well, you know the price."

"Bloody witches," he snarled as she walked back into the clearing with her long back curled hair swaying behind her.

She was going into her third year and growing her Gringotts fortune to heights that would rival the longest standing families in the Wizarding World. Or at least this side business-secret dealings- she dubbed them, kept her entertained while the Dursley's left her to her own devices.

 _Imagine what all the little Griffindor's would think if they knew_ , she thought before her mind returned to her beloved TV show she would finally be returning to soon.

The charms she applied to over her scar would only last so much longer and the concentration gave her the worst headache, but Hermione said it would come with time.

Third year began tomorrow and it was prudent to begin her studies again with Hermione and Luna. The ache in her scar throbbed reminding her of her goal once more.

Morgana help her, if she did not get off this train soon, then the Weasley's were going to lose a son. She shifted to look out the window as Hermione and Luna chatted about their summer's activities, but Ron had the indecency to keep hounding her with mindless questions about the next year. If only she could send a stinging hex his way then maybe she could get a moment of quiet and perhaps her head would cease to ache.

Luna tilted her head mid conversation to observe her, "Dorea, you seem a bit distressed. Would you like a potion? I believe I have a concoction that may help with your problem. You see, I've been experimenting this summer with different plants my father sent for around the world. Did you know, there is this weed in South-"

Before Luna could reach into her back, Dorea waved her hard in dismissal. The sooner she could get into her dorm and take a nap the better, after the previous night she had. If she kept acting out of sorts, Hermione would catch on and then she would never hear the end of her rant about protecting her identity.

"I think we know why Lady Potter is out of sorts, don't we Luna? Must have been some late night activity," bit Hermione with her lips pulling tight against her mouth. She would never stop worry over her safety.

Dorea shifted her eyes toward Hermione. "Lady Potter is it? You just love practicing your formalities. We'll make a proper pureblood princess out of you yet."

Her blood status may make her inferior to many Slytherins, but Dorea always reminded her: _wear it like armor and no one can make it your weakness_.

Hermione nodded at Dorea. "Maybe if you acted more properly, than you wouldn't be forced into lessons to reinforce your inadequacies."

She narrowed her eyes at her. "And what, my dear, would you call my faults?"

What Ron thought was the beginning of an epic fight was solely a loving argument between two sisters that reinforced the barriers of this world. He had is mouth open ready to speak before Luna interrupted with a serene smile.

"I don't them we have time to list them all, but I think we would all have equally long lists."

Both Hermione and Dorea turned to Luna with small huffs. Despite their knowledge of the world, their ages tended to show in times like this. Luna continued with threading her hands in her lap. "We will be arriving soon sisters and I would have to be late, because of your bickering."

Dorea glanced at Hermione and took her left hand softly. "Sister of my heart and blood, please forgive me for teasing you about something we should both take seriously."

Hermione squinted her eyes, not quite believing her. With a shaking breath she nodded curtly. "Of course, sister."

"You're still a proper princess." She finished with a small smirk.

Hermione and Luna had yet to be informed about her plan, but Potter Manor again was to be reopened it's rightful owner. First, she had to make sure her sisters could survive in the snake pit with those who planned to demean them. When she last went to see the goblins she demanded a full list of everything she owned with clear distinction to what bloodlines they descended from. One day she sent a owl with a tattered copy of _Customs of Pureblood Women_ to Hermione as a joke. That royally backfired and since then it has been her life's purpose to speak the language of the snakes.

Hermione regarded her with a smile, "One day, we will show all those pureblood princesses the fure of a Mudblood."

Before they could continue, there was a knock at the door and their journey to Hogwarts had ended. It was time to work.

 **Authors Note:** I've always imagined a female Harry Potter that had the ability to be ruthless. I've played around with a couple ideas, but this one recently struck me. Imagine if Harry (Dorea) was a necromancer?


	3. Chapter 3

"Sometimes, I wonder if Professor Snape actually sees me. In class, I try my best and answer whatever horrible question he poses, but -" Hermione looked away, " if never feels like it means anything to him."

It was midnight after the welcoming feast and Blaise Zabini snuck them his private reserve fire whiskey he got on holiday to impress Luna after failing at getting her attention over the summer at the balls. It was quite quaint if you asked Dorea. The most she got on a given day was a house elf brewing a tea that she could never seem to replicate.

"I couldn't say, but darling you are the best know-it-all I've met. And you know I mean that in the most charming way, right?" Said Dorea laying across the pillows of the common room.

Most of the students had turned in. The girls — the trio the world had dubbed them— stayed huddled next to the fire with intent. Their plans for the summer were still being fought and negotiated over, but the rest of the student population could not see their talk. It was not done.

"Oh stuff it," said Hermione while swirling her glass. She has only begun to indulge into fire whiskey, but this brew made her feel like she could do anything. Be anything.

Dorea rubbed the back of her neck, "I feel like a hippogriff is kicking the inside of my stomach." Her long, black curls were swept into a messy bun on her head in order to keep their hair out of her face.

"Always colorful Dorea," murmured Luna with her legs swung over the back of the couch and her long honey blonde hair sweeping the floor behind her. Different perspectives always invigorated her to think differently.

"What do you expect? I've been prodded all summer by my horrible house elf and Salazar forbid me from stretching my legs. The only thing that is keeping me going is this drink. Remind me to snog Blaise."

Hermione glanced over, "Oh, you love your nanny elf. Stuff it. It will be me to remind you to keep your legs crossed. I'm sure Lolly has already begun to dose your teas when you weren't looking."

"Hermione, sexual encounters are perfectly normal. A witch begins to bleed at twelve years old and in the—"

"Luna, please stop!"

Luna moved her head forward to get the drink in her mouth and turned away. There

was no arguing with her at this point when she acted this way.

Dorea grabbed the bottled with force and sloshed another serving into her glass with a small smile. Despite the grumpiness her sisters were exhibiting; she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Hogwarts was home. Plain and simple.

"I've been informed by House Malfoy that the season has begun and that they are holding the first and last social events of the year. Which means my pets, that you are helping me pick a dreadful dress so that Pugsy can't outshine me."

"That beast could never outshine Goyle, Dorea. Poor Madame Parkinson, to think her own spawn would turn out to be such a dog face," growled Hermione picking at the side of her nail.

Dorea smiled wide at her insult, "What has she done already? Oh, do tell. If you're this horrible already she has to have done something terrible."

Hermione held the glass to her lips and coded the liquor on her lips. Pansy was convinced she was in love with Draco — the practical infant in her mind— and that they would skip off together in the sunset.

"She was less than happy with the third year blood tests."

Luna blinked. "I never understood why they waited until third year to conduct the tests. Is it to make sure prejudices are already firmly in place or to reinforce the double standards that prevail?"

The two exchanged glances. Dorea spoke up first, tilting her head to the side. "I adopted you both as House Potter over summer, is that why?"

Hermione rubbed her hands together. "Uhm, no afraid not."

"Then what? Malfoy couldn't have been mad over anything else unless you had some form of removed creature blood."

"Well, I think it's quite worst."

Luna frowned. "Really, Dorea. You know better. All forms of animals have a safe term that they approve of and identify with. Hermione could be a halfling and would should respect that."

"Hermione, if you're a siren, then this would be perfect for business! I could hire you to do all my PR."

"Dorea Black!"

"Will you two please shut up for two minutes so I can explain?"

"What, that you are going to grow a horn?" Dorea took a large drink from the quickly lowering glass, "How are we going to explain that to Snape? He already is part vampire himself."

"Well according to current record—"

"Stop!" Screamed Hermione.

Both girls glanced at her face while taking another drink. "I haven't told you because, well I was afraid. Afraid you would think I'm my mother."

"Is it because your mother didn't give you enough candy love?" Giggled Dorea.

Hermione took a large breathe. "My mother is a pureblood and apparently so is my father."

Luna moved to look at Dorea, "Well, most purebloods have inbreeding, so maybe she is related to one of our families." She then glanced at her other sister. "Did it say exactly who?"

Hermione finished the last of her glass. "No, the names had been removed. In fact, my father is listed as deceased. I wasn't going to say anything, because I am proud to be—"

"Darling, stop." Said Dorea. She moved over and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shaking arms. The liquor may have loosened Hermione's tongue, but the grief had only begun.

"I will never get to know him. He could have been wonderful or terrible, you never know. But, what is if he had been great? What of my mother? Why didn't they keep me? Why is the information retracted?"

Luna's lips pursed. "I happen to know someone who is quite knowledgeable about the dead. Even talks to them occasionally."

Her head swirled to look at Dorea, "Would you consider, ugh. Asking around? If not, I can figure out another way. Actually, I have an appointment at Gringotts to meet my family's advisor, despite Hogwart's not telling me a damn thing. Honestly, I can't believe—"

"Hermione, would you shut it."

Hermione looked at Dorea with wide, misted eyes. Dorea clasped her hands with her own. "I think I can do some digging."

"Now Rea, don't you dare go dipping up graves! Remember what happened—"

Both Dorea and Hermione waved their hands in unison to silence Luna's lips before she could berate them with that story again. Honestly, it was one famous potioneer that they had wanted to meet, since they begun to study at Hogwarts. It doesn't matter that he happened to only have half a body remaining and some children might have seen.


End file.
